Aftermath

Vacation turns my mind to mush, words trickling out of the back of my head and I can't remember there was ever a story I wanted to tell.

But I read through words already written, unedited scribbles in a long scroll, large icebergs of tales longing to be melted and merged into one continuous whole, and I can't help but feel I am onto something.

My body revels in Australia. My skin darkens, my body wears itself out in the currents, my mind relaxes from its obsessive grasp on reality, and I am content.

But I read through words already written, and they remind me of their sparkle, of my incessant love for them. Vacation is beautiful, living out here could save my life, but oh, how New York carries the sparkle. Oh, how New York is home.